


piano man

by CurieuxAnges



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Matchmaker Phichit Chulanont, Songfic, mild mentions of alcoholism, sad victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurieuxAnges/pseuds/CurieuxAnges
Summary: Victor Nikiforov was a man of many talents, a musical protégé, adored by many in his field and most of all, bored.--A short story of a sad and lonely former concert pianist and the wonderful piano man who deserved so much more than what he got.(based on the song Piano Man by Billy Joel)





	piano man

Victor Nikiforov was a man of many talents, a musical protégé, adored by many in his field. Often times his life had a way of following an endless cycle: he would perform, get critiqued, practice, improve then begin again. This in itself was the process most—if not all—artists must go through, but to Victor it was much too repetitive to become enjoyable for much longer.

In his struggle to find _something_ to give him some relief, he decided to become less frugal with the money he had earned. He had thought perhaps all of these objects, and the occasional company for the night, may rid him of the void he had created within himself. He had continued down this road until he had little left both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

It was 9:00 on a Saturday evening when he stumbled into a bar, eager to drink away his problems with what little he had left. He saw the regulars already milling about: Chris, eager to get his fill and a place to rest his head for the night. Yuri, ready to make a quick buck on some poor soul he would con once they were out of their wits. Georgi, already drinking and lamenting the loss of some girl or other.

He sat down at the bar, ordering his regular tonic and gin, when he heard a beautiful melody from an instrument that he had once called his muse. Somehow it all sounded strange and new to him. The way the man played, albeit rough around the edges, was filled with emotions. The heart that the man put into the melody was what drew Victor in the first time…and every night that soon followed.

In all his years as a concert pianist, Victor was never quite able to capture the raw emotion that the man in front of him managed to give every night—or maybe he did, but the memory was likely too distant to remember.

It was on one particular night, when The Piano Man was playing a tune he had written when he was younger and yet to lose his inspiration for the art, that Victor decided to approach him.

He threw a few bills into the tip jar on the piano, smiling kindly at him.

“You gave that piece more life than it’s had in a long time,” he said softly, a rueful smile on his face as he reminisced. “What are you doing _here_ of all places? A man like you deserves his own stage!”

The Piano Man smiled softly at him. “I suppose some of us are not fortunate enough to soar as you did.” He smiled at him in thanks, collected what was in his jar and headed out.

Victor wished he could say that things were left at that: a short exchange between the man who deserved so much more than what he got, and the man who foolishly threw away all the good he had, but he couldn’t. He truly was hooked. Every night he came back, the same seat, the same drinks—albeit fewer as he wanted to listen with as much mental clarity as possible—and the same love for The Piano Man.

All was well—or rather as well as it could be for a pining man—until one night The Piano Man didn’t show. He asked the regulars if any of them knew what happened, but to no avail. Once he was sure there wasn’t much hope left, he ordered a pity round for himself. The affair, if one could even call it that, was clearly short-lived.

A few drinks in a man, about a decade younger than him, sat next to him. He smiled at him and he nodded back.

“Something the matter?” he asked, tilting his head. Victor shook his head, not really in the mood for conversation.

“That can’t be true at all! You look too sad,” he said. He nudged him to try to get him to loosen up.

“I’m Phichit, professional love expert, and I believe I can be of service to you!” he said. He stuck out his hand and wiggled his eyebrows, spirit light and clearly just trying to help.

“It’s not a love problem—“ Victor tried to deny.

“It most definitely is…” Phichit said, prompting him to introduce himself.

“Victor,” he replied, taking his still outstretched hand and giving it a quick shake. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, smiling sadly. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No but I can re-fill yours,” he said, making a signal to the bartender.

“Thank yo-“

“IF you tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, smiling kindly at him.

Victor chuckled, of course there was always a catch. “Well you’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he said, the same sad smile on his face. “If you’re sure then get comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the chair next to him. He downed the drink the bartender handed him. “It’s a long and, quite frankly, pathetic story.”

Victor started with a brief recount of his past: his unexpected rise to fame, his glory years, and the time where it all went downhill. As he did all this he had regret written into the lines on his face. What he would give to turn back time…

 “In the end even with everything I could possibly want at my fingertips, it still wasn’t enough. Then I come here to this bar one night and there was _music._ Real music. Not the pre-programmed music that sounded mechanic, or the pieces most musicians played without a hint of emotion—the way I had for such a long time—but _real music._ With raw emotions and a few flaws here and there; everything everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was captivating, inviting and alluring and it drew me in time and again,” he sighed. “I didn’t know how much I had craved that again until now. Maybe it reminded me of how I used to be; what _I_ used to love.”

He turned to Phichit once more. “Thanks for listening,” he said softly.

“This mystery man, could you describe him?” Phichit asked, a smile on his face.

Victor’s eyebrow raised, unsure of how this would be relevant.

“Well he’s about 5’6”, maybe 5’7”. He’s not really much of a looker, according to Chris, but I think he’s extraordinary. He has raven hair and gorgeous brown eyes…When he plays music you can see how much emotion is in it not only in the way he plays, but also in the way his eyes open up to his soul. It’s almost as if every piece affected him in some way; like each note came from the heart,” he said, waxing poetic.

Phichit looked at him for a second then turned to his phone. Victor would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt at least a little bit. Perhaps he had said too much and bored the young man.

Just when he was about to leave, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Phichit was raising his phone to show a picture of none other than The Piano Man. Victor’s eyes widened as he stared at the image. “That’s him,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Phichit smiled deviously. “If you give me your number I’ll make sure you two see each other again.” Needless to say Victor had never taken a phone nor placed his number faster in his 28 years of existence.

Phichit smiled widely at him and held up five fingers. “Give me five days,” was all he said before nodding to himself and leaving the bar. Five minutes after he left, Victor slapped his hand to his forehead, realizing that he forgot to ask for his contact details.

During the first four days Victor, for the lack of a better term, tried to get his shit together. He tidied up the place so Yuuri wouldn’t see his life for the train-wreck that it is, and he stocked up on food in case Victor would try his hand at cooking dinner. Considering his track record in the kitchen, Victor hoped he wouldn’t have to do latter.

When all was done around the house, he thought of what he would do in future. How the hypothetical date with The Piano Man might go, if they’ll like Makkachin, and how many dogs they’ll have in future (he thought maybe just two but would definitely not be against more).

On the fifth day he still had no word from Phichit. He sighed, losing heart and going back to the bar. It was a Monday night, so there were fewer people than usual. He looked around, ordered his usual, then found himself in gravitating towards the piano for the first time in years,

He shrugged, no harm in giving it another go right? He downed the rest of his drink. He straightened up and poised his fingers over the keys, playing [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IjMAGw2l3o) almost purely out of muscle memory. It was only near the end that he began to lose himself entirely in it, the lyrics hitting close to home.

Once he finished he laughed softly at himself, partially for how much he felt alive as he poured his sadness into music after so long, and partially because of how he managed to fall so hard for someone so fast without even knowing the slightest thing about him.

He heard soft applause coming from his right, and when he looked up it was no other than The Piano Man. He rose to give his rightful place back to him but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and a kind smile. The Piano Man sat next to him and poised his hands over the keys looking to Victor in a silent request to follow his lead, and so he did.

Victor played the song in minor keys (as he had been accustomed to), and The Piano Man played it in major scale; a perfect contrast between the darkness that Victor saw within himself and the light that the other man had so unexpectedly and inexplicably brought into his life.

At the end of the song The Piano Man stood once more and Victor grabbed onto his wrist. The Piano Man turned around, raising an eyebrow in question. Victor cleared his throat.

“I’m Victor. Victor Nikiforov,” he said, thrusting out his hand. “And you are?”

“Maybe ask me out on a date and you’ll find out,” The Piano Man answered with a teasing smile. Victor smiled back, a bright and genuine smile.

“You know I might just take you up on that.”

\---

Fast forward two years and Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki found himself happier than he had ever been with the love of his life by his side, two dogs and puppies on the way.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> hopefully this wasn't too ooc hahaha  
> the song is stammi vicino by the way!
> 
> russian translation:  
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/6175758  
> ((i’m still amazed that someone thought my fic was good enough to do this))
> 
> 02/20/18: made some minor corrections + additions to make the story clearer/easier to read! :)


End file.
